


The Lookout

by LadyLan



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Military, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-03-22 05:38:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13757415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLan/pseuds/LadyLan
Summary: The development of massive war machines called Dragons have fractured the world into three coalitions which constantly wage war on each other: the Lookout, the Red Ribbon Army, and the Cold Regime.After years of military standstill, two new recruits rise through the ranks. One, a promising young pilot with plenty of military lineage. The other, an engineer who gave up her life as heiress to play soldier. Together, these two shake up Captain Vegeta’s tidy post and might just be the tipping point the Lookout needs.Part romance, part shenanigans ... all military!AUInfluenced by too many military ‘toons (Heavy Object, FMA Brotherhood, Voltron, etc)





	1. one

From the crisp blue jacket of her uniform to the pin-straight fall of her blonde hair, First Lieutenant 18 Gero was impeccable. She’d risen past her younger (all of 8 minutes) brother in rank, and now reported to the iciest captain in the iciest speck left on the map.

Screens circled the room showing live broadcasts of all the happenings around post; all of which was bleary and white. So much fucking white everywhere, since it snowed 365 days of the year. She didn’t shiver though. Despite everything, Lieutenant Gero could keep her cool.

She was described as being a bit icy herself.

“Bitch is so cold, they say if you stick it in her, your dick’ll fall right off,” Second Lieutenant Nappa joked.

18’s lip curled. “Charming,” she spat back, brushing past the hulking man and letting her heels clack against the marble floor.

She didn’t have to wear heels, but she quite liked them. Made her feel tall, powerful. She liked the extra few inches her shoes gave her; looming over her moody Captain was something that amused her on this frigid base in the middle of nowhere where little to no entertainment was found.

When she found Captain Vegeta, it was to no one’s surprise that he looked as though he’d just swallowed a mouthful of sand. His lips were turned down in a frown, his eyes held the hard glare he wore when he was displeased by something. And Captain Vegeta was the kind to find displeasure in everything.

His fierce stare was this time was fixated on the screens not showing the ever-falling snow, but this year’s recruits who were unfortunate enough to get shipped to the Lookout base butting up to Cold Regime territory.

“Captain,” she said, momentarily pulling his attention from the pair of photos on screen.

His ire raised a touch. “And you’re positive _these_ are the best recruits of this year’s class?”

“Yes. Sergeant Roshi said they flew beyond their peers at the Academy this year.” Her lips flexed. It was almost, but not quite, a smile. “Light years ahead of the pack.”

Vegeta’s glare swapped back to the two photos splitting the screen. The female recruit was flashing a peace sign in her fucking military ID picture and the male was winking at the camera like a moron.

“Were they instructed not to smile?”

“Uh.” Lieutenant Gero paused. “They were, sir.”

“So my top recruits are insubordinate…”

“Possibly, Captain. But you didn’t ask for the most obedient in this year’s class. You asked for the best.”

A growl rumbled low in his throat. “They graduated from the Academy,” Vegeta snapped. “They should be capable of following rules. That isn’t something I should have to be specific about." 

Nappa entered the control room, his beefy hands wrapped around a coffee mug. He stared at the screen, then shrugged a hulking shoulder. 18 exhaled. Apparently she was the only capable member in the room...

“Private Bulma B. Briefs is a genius,” she began, her voice even. “She knows how to fix Dragons better than anyone in the Lookout. She’s resourceful, quick on her feet. She’s a huge asset to our team. Don’t look past her abilities just because she’s a bit… unconventional.”

Nappa stared at the side-by-side photos. And, finally deciding to make himself useful, supplied, “Private Kakarot is the son of Major Bardock, brother of Sergeant Raditz.”

Vegeta snarled. “Some lineage...”

“And the first recruit to score a perfect 80 points on the physical part of the exam,” 18 added. To this, Vegeta stilled. Nappa bristled. 18 bit her lip to control a grin.

“Impossible,” Captain Vegeta croaked, barely above a whisper. Injecting a bit of venom in his tone, he spat, “I scored a 78.”

“Nearly flawless, sir,” Nappa chimed in, as though to cushion the blow.

Nearly flawless wasn’t flawless, though. Vegeta’s hands compressed into twin fists at his sides. His knuckles white beneath the black standard-issue gloves.

“Private Kakarot set a new record.” After a deliberate pause, she added, “Sir.”

His jaw locked, Vegeta growled out a barely audible, “And on the technical?”

“An… 11, sir,” 18 mumbled.

Vegeta felt inflated in that, at least. He’d gotten a respectable 69.

“But Private Briefs scored top of her class in the technical.” 18 inclined her head toward the photograph of the peace-sign flashing beauty. “They’re a good pair.”

Vegeta growled. “Fucking useless is what they are…”

“If you think so, sir, I can request other recruits.”

“No,” Vegeta barked. “I asked for the top… Now, show me what other imbeciles graduated in this class that will be stationed here.”

“Yes, very well Captain.” 18 moved her finger across the screen. A grinning bald man replaced Bulma and Goku’s photographs. “This is Private Krillin. Sixth in his class.”

“He isn’t smiling at least,” Vegeta commented.

“Yeah, but he looks right terrified,” Nappa joked.

Ignoring him, Vegeta read over his stats. “5 foot, even?”

“You should know height isn’t a factor, sir.” 18 rocked on her heels, trying to suppress a laugh at the rage that tightened Vegeta’s features. Quickly, she swiped another finger. A docile looking bluenette stared timidly back at them. “Private Launch.” Another swipe to a reveal a bald man with a third eye right smack in the middle of his head. “Private Tien.” She swiped again. “Private Puar.” 

Vegeta froze. “He’s a cat.”

“Yes, sir. With a very special ability.”

Vegeta fought the urge to slam his head against the wall. Instead, he asked, “And...?”

She swiped once more, settling on another smiling idiot. “Private Yamcha, sir. That completes this year’s roster.”

Vegeta shook his head. “Fine. I have their first assignment ready. Have them report to Nappa when they arrive.”

Nappa’s teeth gleamed beneath the fluorescent lights. 18 fought the urge to give a dramatic exhale. 

“Very well, sir. I’ll have Staff Sergeant Chichi make sure their rooms are readied so they can settle in and get comfortable here.” 

“I assure you,” Vegeta said, his lips lifting into the first thing that could pass as a grin all day. “They’ll be anything but comfortable.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Ah! I quit!” Bulma tossed her shovel to the ground and shucked her hood. A few lazy drops of snow found purchase in her eyelashes and messy blue ponytail. “I’m a friggin’ genius! I didn’t enlist to shovel snow!”

From the mound of dirty snow beside her, Goku poked up and flashed her a grin. His own military-issued snow coat couldn’t quite contain his hairstyle. Some of the spikes held the goose feather parka up like a makeshift tent above his head. His teeth gleamed in the morning sun, white like the snow that covered the hills rolling in every direction as far as Bulma could see.

She met her friends smile with a glare.

“I’m way too beautiful for this.”

Goku laughed. “C’mon, Bulma. It’s fun!”

“Fun?” Poison laced her tone. Fire danced in her eyes. Her boots were heavy and damp and she curled her toes inside them. And despite her ire, her best friend seemed unfazed.

“Sure! Fun. Our first real mission,” he replied, and returned to the task of shoveling snow.

Bulma swapped her gaze to the other side of the runway, where their classmates and fellow first-year recruits were clearing the lane that funneled toward the Lookout’s northernmost base.

Krillin stood shivering in his parka. Tien seemed bored with the whole thing, shoveling methodically with his signature expression of resting bitch face. Launch was rocking the blue hair, a docile frown playing at her lips as she struggled with a patch of packed powder. Yamcha stood tall and solid against the snow, Puar floating faithfully by his side, chirping the occasional supportive cliche.

“Ah-ha!” Bulma shouted. “What the hell am I thinking?! Puar! Come ‘ere!”

The cat gave an innocently timed blink before flying her way.

“Do you think you could transform into a gigantic snow plow and make this easy on us?” Bulma asked, blue eyes sparkling above her wind-whipped cheeks. Puar almost sighed. Bulma was beyond beautiful, even frozen and angry. It was no wonder Yamcha had been half in love with her at first sight. And then he shook his little blue head. “Of course! Good thinkin’, Bulma!”

And with a _pop!_ , the small blue shapeshifter became a sixteen-foot-tall snow blower.

“Awesome job, Puar! Now, start making your way toward base. Slowly, that’s it!” Bulma coached. The other recruits watched on in varying stages of relief. Only Goku looked mildly disappointed. Once the runway was clear, Bulma leapt into the air. “Work smarter not harder, folks!”

And then she turned to the watchtower where a grouchy commanding officer frowned down at them. With a shake of his head, Second Lieutenant Nappa took the ladder down the tower two rungs at a time. His boots left impressive marks in the snow as he stomped their way. Once he was in range, he leveled his glare on Bulma and snapped,

“That was cheating, Private.”

Bulma raised a single challenging brow. “Cheating? How so?” She crossed her arms. Nappa’s eyes dropped to her chest before snapping back to her eyes where a knowing smile tugged at the corner of her pink lips.

“Was the task to exhaust your new recruits with pointless manual labor, or was it to clear the runway?” Bulma challenged. “Because from here it looked like we got the task you assigned done in two hours when you’d allotted four days. I’d say you’ve got yourself a pretty stellar group of recruits, Lieutenant.”

“I’d say I have a pain in my arse…” he grumbled. Then he jabbed a meaty tumb in the direction of the main building. “Whatever. Follow me.”

Second Lieutenant Nappa proceeded to give them a tour of the facilities. The wide and complex training room, the sparse barracks, and the cafeteria. Seeing the way Goku’s eyes lit at the sight of food, Nappa gave a throaty chuckle.

“Don’t get too excited. Everything on the menu taste like edible eraser.”

“How many meals a day are we allowed?” Bulma asked. Her question was promptly ignored. “What is the procedure for mealtime?”

“Keep moving, Privates,” Nappa croaked, turned heel and kept walking. Bulma rolled her eyes and practically jogged to keep up. Even Bluenette Launch seemed to keep pace with ease. Bulma opened her mouth to ask where they were going, but Nappa stopped and grumbled,

“This is the engineering bay. This, ladies and gentlemen, is where Dragons are repaired.”

She almost tripped over her feet. Wide, blue eyes took in the gigantic bay where techs and engineers and mechanics ran about, two massive war machines -- each weight somewhere in the upper 700-tonnes -- were pitted with scaffolding. The ricochet of metal clanging and welding torches competed with voices shouting to be heard above the noise. She could feel the energy prickling her skin, making the fine hairs of her arm stand at attention. 

Her fingers itched. Bulma had scored a near-perfect score on the technical, but she knew she could get a perfect score if all her knowledge of Dragons wasn’t so based in theory. If she could just get her hands on one of those buggers, the possibilities were endless. If only she could--

“Move, Private,” a deep voice snapped. And she looked up, knocked from her reverie. She swallowed the dryness in her throat and felt her cheeks flush. But she remained rooted where she stood and the source of the deep voice turned his jaded stare on her. “You,” he spoke. “You’re one of the new recruits.”

“I am.”

His eyes narrowed in question. The breast of his uniform was adorned with a crest Bulma knew she’d had to memorize during military training, but the rank was suddenly lost on her. He only stood a few inches her senior, but the dark hair that upswept from the crown of his head made it feel like he was towering over her. She straightened her shoulders and his frown deepened.

“And why aren’t you with Second Lieutenant Nappa?” he asked, one dark brow lifting in question.

“Oh.” Bulma turned in the direction her friends had been but was now unoccupied. “Guess they moved on without me.” And then she extended a hand and grinned at the handsome stranger. “Name’s Bulma.”

The man dropped his gaze to her outstretched arm and snarled at it. “Salute me, Private.”

Bulma felt her eyes roll of their own accord, but gave a salute. She tossed in a wink, just to get his panties in a bunch because he seemed like the type.

It worked like a charm, of course, and she bit down on the inside of her cheek to reel in the smile that was threatening to bloom. She could practically _feel_ the frustration from her insubordination rolling off him in waves.

With a shrug of a slender shoulder, mostly lost thanks to her uniform jacket, Bulma said, “I’m a Private, sure, but I only enlisted so I could play with Dragons. This is the only part of the tour I cared about.”

He was as frosty as the snow falling outside. “You don’t play with dragons, idiot.” The disdain in his eyes was lost on her. “They’re massive war machines. Dragons carry the most elite pilots the Lookout can supply into the thicket of war. Our station only has two Dragons left.” His stare flickered for the briefest of seconds to the corner of the room where a mess of parts was scattered. “Two and half if you count the Dragon that was obliterated by Frieza’s forces six months ago.”

Bulma’s attention shifted on the pile, her fingers once again dancing in her gloves. “I can fix it.” When she looked back at him, she took note of the hard set of his jaw, of the the frown line punctuating his lips. And then her eyes dropped the insignia on his breast and froze as recognition washed over her.

“You don’t seem like a mechanic.”

“Aw. Because of my girlish good looks? That’s sexist, Cap’n Vegeta.”

No ounce of amusement reflected in his eyes. “No. You don't seem like a mechanic because you’re a flighty imbecile that couldn’t keep up with the likes of Nappa.”

She planted her hands on her hips. “Got a 74 on my technical.”

“Feh. I got a 69.”

“Hey! My favorite number,” she replied with a wink.

She filed the way the bridge of his nose flushed for later.

“Get out of my sight,” he snapped. “I don’t want you looking at my Dragons, do you understand? Maybe if you manage to scramble up some couth I’ll let you take a peek at the pile of rust that Dragon 087 once was.”

“Great!” She beamed. “I promise, Cap’n. I can have it up and running in no time.”

“Out of my sight, Private.”

“Briefs. Like panties.” She flashed both rows of her teeth. “Not a bad mnemonic device, hey?”

“Out of my sight, Private Briefs.”

He watched her go, a vein in his temple throbbing. He didn’t think he could hate anyone more than he hated her. He was wrong. At 1200 hours, he went to the cafeteria to meet the band of sorry recruits he’d been given and Nappa introduced him to Private Kakarot.


End file.
